Communication

John Watson sat down on the hard wooden chair, eyeing the open laptop with a familiar smile. After a few moments of thoughtful reflection upon his last case, John's fingers fell into a series of skillful movements. Within an hour it was completed, and as he looked back at the finished product, a feeling of satisfaction washed over him.

Moriarty felt the uncontrollable urge to message Sherlock and begin another game of whodunit. Although he had the resources and more, a little voice inside his head told him no. Save it. The suspense of prolonging will only make for a grander ending. Moriarty grinned and placed the phone back in his pocket.

Lestrade extracted the letter from his cost and placed it into the hands of Scotland Yard messenger, Luke. Immediately an invisible weight had been unloaded from the detective. Letters. I haven't used them in ages! Nonetheless, it's about time they've reemerged from the shadows of email.

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Cardiff

Sherlock sat on the couch, cringing with frustration. "Bored!" He shouted as a bullet emerged within the circumference of a spray painted smiley face. It wasn't until two additional bullets were fired that the land lady, Mrs Hudson cried in shock.

John intently stared into the eyes of his current girlfriend. Speedy's was the perfect place to eat. Close to home and practically undisturbed...or so he thought. A quick flicker of movement caught his attention and before he knew it, Sherlock had introduced him to a new case.

Sherlock pressed against the curtain, peeking out into the streets of Cardiff. Along the path way that connected the rows of buildings, was people scattered into individual clutters. Most would look down blindly at the scene, however Sherlock saw only criminals and crimes waiting to happen.

John Watson arrived at the crime scene having barely finished morning tea. This proved quite inconvenient for the poor doctor as he observed the gory scene, causing a disruption in his stomach. Sherlock however, stood as graceful as a swan, obviously in his element.

London

Mycroft furrowed his eyebrows as he read the newspaper. Sherlock had once again caught the attention of the media. Perhaps too much attention. Mycroft nibble his cup cake atop his china plate. He always ate when certain issues occurred, much like his habit to smoke.

Molly brought back her attention to the microscope. After setting it to a 40 times zoom, she was able to observe the blood sample. What made this sample special however, was the fact it was from Sherlock's new case. In addition it was only moments before that she'd placed the body in the morgue. With any luck I'll get this done within the hour.

Sherlock shared a dark look with Mycroft as another of his lectures began. Did it matter that the royal family should see himself exposed? Not at all. They were people and this is how he'd treat them, like anyone else. Determined in his stubbornness, Sherlock countered with an argument.
The unorthodox situation proceeded...

Lestrade lazily supported his head with his hands. Surprisingly, it had been a busy day with investigating and permitting searches. Even his coworkers had been busily moving from office to office, obviously busy with various other cases. Lestrade shrugged, 'Not my division.'

Moriarty walked slowly through the crowd of homeless and convicted. Although, not all of the were. Among the underground network lied criminals and masterminds prepared to sell or offer their services. It was one of these people he required; a mastermind hacker under the alias of Helen. Moriarty laughed, understanding he clever pun. Helen was the woman who created the Trojan War, and thus horse.

Mycroft swung his cane in a perfect ark and gracefully returned it to the ground with a heavy thud. "I will not have this. The terrorist organisation will be terminated at once. You should know by now, London does not tolerate these things." The words were filled with support, and immediately the orders were given. The government had spoken and once again, London was saved.